


cherry pie

by brightbolt



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: (eventually) - Freeform, Alternate Universe, F/F, Murder Mystery, Pacific Northwest, They Live In Northern California Now, but... not, hopefully, i've forgotten how to tag things so more to come i promise, small town AU, the vibe will be along the lines of twin peaks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-14 10:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20599502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightbolt/pseuds/brightbolt
Summary: The town of Bloodstain, CA, is not well-known. Besides an overly invested police department, a few local businesses, and the town's favorite diner, there isn't much going on.Then one of the deadliest assassins the world has ever seen is assigned there for witness protection (along with her handler). It's not an ideal situation, of course. Especially not for the owner of the town's favorite diner (who, by the way, was a detective at that overly invested police department for around a decade), Eve Polastri.Bloodstain is a simple town. Every morning, fog rolls in. Every evening, the sun sets over the ocean. Every night, the residents sleep through the sounds in the forest. What happens when they can't anymore?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi all! 
> 
> before we begin: i have no idea where this story is going. if i'm being honest, i only wrote it because it had been so damn long since i'd written anything, and i wanted to have some fun doing it. i've lacked solid, consistent inspiration for years, and i channeled my energy into school and my personal life. honestly, i didn't realize how much i missed this. then i watched both seasons of killing eve in a weekend and everything clicked into place. 
> 
> if there's anything i would ask, it's that 1) you have fun reading this, 2) try to keep criticism constructive, and 3) drop suggestions for a name for the diner in the comments. please. im begging yall.
> 
> anyway, that's all from me! if you feel so inclined, you're free to come drop me a line on tumblr, where i'm @brightbolts.

The bells above the door jingled for the first time that morning as the door beneath them swung open to make way for her. Sensible, well-priced shoes clacked along the tiled floor of the diner. A set of keys hit the counter, still bearing the brown coffee rings from the day before, and slid off the other side with a dull tinkling. 

Eve Polastri groaned, pushing hair that threatened to impede back with one hand. The clock above the door read 5:46am - which, pre-morning-double-espresso, felt about twelve hours too early - and neither the slow crawl of the morning fog nor the prospect of another day running the diner did anything to help ease the splitting headache left over from Bill’s party the night before. Leaning over the counter, she turned on the espresso machine and began the morning routine she saved for such occasions - not that she did this frequently, of course, but after ten years of owning and operating the small-town diner, it happened more often than she would have thought. _Especially,_ she thought idly, _now that Bill had retired. _

Eve trudged her way over to the half-empty display cabinet, scanning through the rest of the food from yesterday’s crowd, until she found what she had been looking for. A small smile crept onto her face. Moving quicker than she had thought possible in her less-than-sober state, she let out a quiet chuckle and leaned over to grab a plate and fork from the stack behind the counter. Setting them down in front of her, she grabbed the half-empty dish of Elena’s world-famous (well, greater tri-county area-famous) cherry pie and cut out a generous portion for herself. 

The first bite felt like a thick blanket thrown over a blinding light - cool, calming, and somehow feeling of safety. As if that wasn’t good enough, she heard her espresso machine give its Ding! of readiness. Eve sat for a moment in the stillness, drinking it in. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

If the first bite of pie felt like a blanket, the first sip of espresso felt like the feeling after a long nap: warm, satisfied, and slightly bitter. It still took her the whole double and a full mug of brewed coffee to feel like a human being again. 

Eve looked at the clock again. 5:51am. Considering the diner opened at 7 o’clock sharp, she probably needed to get a move on. She ran the morning over in her mind. Elena would be over at 6:30 with the day’s pies, and Jess would be getting there any minute to help set up. Hugo would be late, of course, and make up for it with what he considered a charming smile and what everyone considered a chunk of TMI about his whereabouts the previous night. 

_Even in a town of 507 people, he manages a new face every week, _Eve thought. _It’s almost impressive._ She shook her head as if to clear it, then ran a hand through unruly hair. For a split second, it lingered there, as if waiting for something. Her other hand came up to meet it as she began pulling it up into a tight ponytail.

She looked around the diner for a moment, reveling in the silence, before clapping her hands once. As Eve began to set up for the morning crowd, she knew somewhere in the back of her mind that it was going to be a long, long day.

*** * ***

The clock on the dashboard of the black Mercedes they were loaned read 5:52am. That was the first thing she saw when she woke up, feeling a crick in her neck from sleeping in the passenger’s seat. Stretching her arms out, catlike, she turned to the man in the driver’s seat. His grey hair and beard were more pronounced than usual, she noticed, as were the bags under his eyes. Even as he turned to look at her, she found herself making eye contact with his bags, not him. Old bastard can’t even sleep right, she thought. It made her smile.

“Something funny?” A thick Russian accent seemed to spill out of him. Bushy gray eyebrows raised at her, and a smile threatened to break across his face.

Villanelle’s brief, absent-minded smile stretched into a yawn as she shook her head at him and closed her eyes, leaning against the headrest. “Are we there yet?” 

Konstantin put his eyes back on the road. “Not yet. Sign said a few more miles,” He glanced over at her. “Are you ready for this?” 

If her jaw clenched reflexively, both of them pretended not to notice. “Of course,” She said plainly, lying through her teeth. “It’s witness protection. How bad can it be?” 

_The judge’s gavel ringing through the courtroom. The blue of Villanelle’s suit. The red of her-_

Konstantin kept his eyes on the road. Villanelle turned hers to the window. 

Beside her, he turned on the radio. A tinny, slightly garbled version of what she thought might have been a Fleetwood Mac song filtered through the car’s speaker, and she sang along under her breath. Around her, the redwood trees stretched tall and silent into the sky. It weirded her out. Her eyes were on the trees, backlit by the rising sun, that encircled her. It would have been humbling to anyone else. To her, it was just another feature of a featureless landscape. 

She rolled down the window. Cool air ran over her fingertips, her hands, her arm, as she let it hang outside. Guitar strings warbled through the speakers around her, and the music seemed to evaporate as soon as it touched the outside world. 

Konstantin’s words echoed her thoughts. “This job has swallowed many before you. Don’t let it take you too.” There was an edge to his voice that she had become familiar with. 

Villanelle rolled her eyes. “You’re always so dramatic. I’ll be fine!” His raised eyebrow did nothing to stop her. “Let’s see. Should I be Sophie,” she said, her accent switching seamlessly from her native Russian to a bright English, “from Manchester?” 

Konstantin chuckled. 

It fueled her. “No, no. Too exotic. How about Amy?” Her English changed now to a peppy Southern. “A wide-eyed reporter new to the Bay Area?”

He frowned and turned to look at her. “This isn’t the Bay Area.”

“Why not? There’s a bay. And an area.” She met his gaze with an innocent expression.

Konstantin chuckled and shook his head. “Keep thinking about it.”

“Fine. How about Julie?” Southern twang evened out into a respectable West Coast accent. “My girlfriend dumped me a few months ago, and my job sucked ass, so I’m moving back in with my-” She drew out the vowel, squinting in thought, “-great-grandpa Fred.” Villanelle finished with a nod. 

Beside her, a disbelieving snort was unsuccessfully hidden by a cough. “Fred?” He questioned. 

Villanelle shrugged in her perfected that’s-how-it-is way. She reached out a still half-asleep arm and began turning the dial on the radio, flicking between pure static and muted voices until she found the 80s hits station. The half-static, garbled mess of synthesizers gave her peace in a way she couldn’t describe. Her eyes began to drift closed once again, and she shifted in the seat in a fruitless attempt to find a more comfortable position in the passenger’s seat.

Her eyes, wandering around aimlessly, found the car clock. It read 6:01am. They drifted downward to the GPS on Konstantin’s phone which gave them another two hours before arriving in-

“_Bloodstain?_” Villanelle leaned forward in her seat with renewed interest. Konstantin looked over with an expression of faint amusement. “My assignment is in _Bloodstain, California?_” 

He chuckled. “So they tell me.” He looked over at her. The amusement left his face. “Try not to live up to the name, eh?” He seemed to search her face for something, eyes darting between the two of hers as if he couldn’t decide where to look. A deafening silence settled between them. 

Villanelle pouted for effect and nodded. Breaking tension was her specialty, after all. Whatever Konstantin was searching for, he seemed satisfied with that answer, if still uneasy. He nodded once in return, hesitating for just a fraction of a second, and turned his eyes back on the long road ahead. 

She sat in silence for approximately half a second. “Can we at least get breakfast once we get there?”

*** * ***

“ORDER UP!” Jess’ no-nonsense voice rang throughout the already-bustling diner. Eve increased her pace towards the counter separating the kitchen to grab the two thick white plates waiting for her. One held three thick slices of french toast with a respectable sprinkling of powdered sugar. The other contained what appeared to be a dish made entirely out of spinach. Next to it was a single sausage link. 

Despite herself, Eve frowned in disgust. “Jess, what… is this?” 

Behind the counter, Jess didn’t look up from her work at frying bacon. “Carolyn’s favorite. She said something about how it…” A drop of oil shot up suddenly and found purchase on her hand. She didn’t even flinch. “...I dunno, boosts her metabolism or something.”

Eve looked around the diner at the sound of Carolyn’s name, scanning the room until she found her former boss sitting in the booth furthest in the corner, accompanied by someone she didn’t recognize. Her response was absent-minded. “Gotcha.” Eve shook her head as if to clear it and grabbed the two plates. 

Walking by the door, she chanced a look up at the clock. _How is it only 7:30?_ Around her, the diner was full of mountain bikers, early risers, and the high school cross country team - in other words, the people she hated most in the world. She stifled a groan as the thought occurred to her.

By the time Eve made it to Carolyn Martens’ table, she hadn’t gotten a good look at her companion, who was slumped slightly against the window and appeared to be snoring gently. Carolyn, however, was sipping from a mug of tea and reading the newspaper. She didn’t acknowledge the presence of the other person at all. 

She did, however, seem to sense Eve’s presence. “Good morning, Eve.” Her voice was carefully guarded as always, like cold iron wrought into a spiked gate, and the lilt of her accent was soft. Her eyes seemed to bore their way into the back of Eve’s skull. “This looks lovely. Thank you.” Reaching to the silverware she had carefully arranged on the table, she took a bite.

Eve’s tried to hide how her eyes narrowed just the slightest bit in disgust as she gave her best impression of a smile. It didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Of course, Carolyn. Let me know if you need anything-”

“You know, there is one thing I could ask of you.” Carolyn wiped her mouth with a- _was that a cloth napkin?_ \- and gestured to the slumped-over figure across from her. “This is Kenny. He’s new to town. I was hoping you could show him around.” Not even a flicker of movement arose from him. 

“Of course,” Eve nodded, turning away and standing still for a split second before wheeling around to face her again. “You know, we only have paper napkins here.”

Carolyn’s expression remained unchanged. “Yes, I know. I brought my own.” 

A beat. “Um. Right, then. I should-”

“Yes, I believe you should.” Carolyn nodded. “Thank you for the meal, Eve. Do give Jess my regards. This spinach is excellent.”

Eve stared at her with equal parts horror and fascination as she lifted the food up to her mouth and began to chew it. She decided to turn around in order to avoid further contact. 

Life has an interesting way of putting people exactly where they need to be exactly when they need to be there, whether it be to meet a new friend, romantic partner, or enemy. While there’s no science to it, serendipity has a funny way of working out. So often we find ourselves in exactly the same place as a best friend, a lover, even a job opportunity. The universe usually has a better sense of figuring out where we belong than we do. So, knowing this, it appears both less than and more than coincidental that as Eve turned around to avoid watching her former boss eat spinach before 8 o’clock in the morning, she also turned around just in time to miss the vintage black Mercedes that roared into the parking lot of the diner.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back! ladies and gentlemen.... we got 'em. thank you so much to everyone who has read this fic and who left kudos and comments on the first chapter! they're more appreciated than i could ever tell you, especially since i'm slowly but surely getting back into my groove. hopefully, this chapter meets your expectations! we're still in early days yet - more plot development to come in the next few. i'm toying with a twin-peaks-esque thread, but i'm open to suggestions. i'm having a lot of fun writing, and i'm happy with it!
> 
> that's all from me - come talk to me on tumblr at brightbolts.tumblr.com! i'm always available. if you enjoy it, feel free to leave kudos and/or comments! thank you!

Villanelle slammed the car door shut. If she had been looking, she would have seen Konstantin wince at the noise, closing his firmly but without aggression. 

She leaned against the hood of the car, arms crossed as she squinted at the garish sign. Huge red block letters read _FIRST BLOOD DINER_. Smaller black letters beneath it read _It's To Die For!_ in a curling subscript.

It was corny - no doubt about it - and yet there was a part of her that felt oddly charmed. From what she could make out through the slightly-tinted diner windows, it seemed bustling with energy even at — she checked her watch, a lovely Swiss piece that still bore a slight stain from a particularly gory assignment — 7:34am. The door opened suddenly, making way for a few ragged-looking high-schoolers wearing clothes that had obviously been worn the day (or, more likely, the night) before. 

Konstantin locked the car behind her. The beep made her jump a little against her better nature, and she put a hand to her chest in mock offense. “You’re going to be a dick this early in the morning?”

He chuckled, eyes crinkling genuinely. “Only for you.” He gestured to the door. “Shall we?”

Villanelle scoffed. “You’re going to make me eat _American diner food?_” 

He threw a sideways glance over at her, shaking his head. “I once watched you drink clam juice from the bottle.” 

“That was different. It’s nutritious.” 

“If you can survive on a stomach full of clam juice, you can manage a pancake or two.” 

She really couldn’t argue that. This whole conversation was mainly for the sake of debate — they both knew she’d eat anything. Plus, the message board out front mentioned lemon-gingerbread french toast and fresh-made espresso, and she wasn’t about to turn that down. 

Konstantin, ever the gentleman, opened the door for her, and a wave of warmth washed over her as she stepped inside. 

It was a far cry from the bistros and cafes she had grown accustomed to after years of living in Paris, but it wasn’t bad for a diner. Besides the campy Bloodstain gimmick they had going on, it was really rather nice. The tiles were a deep red, yes, but they were muted enough to get away with it. The tables seemed handmade and sturdy, as did the chairs that accompanied them, built from a dark red-tinged wood she assumed was made from the trees surrounding them. 

The walls were white, but not stark. If she was being picky, Villanelle would have called them cream. Newspaper article after newspaper article about local events lined them, including quite a few about a local team of detectives. 

Even as Konstantin found them a table and began walking towards it, Villanelle found herself drawn to one of the women in a photograph in one particular article. The headline, reading **_LOCAL DETECTIVE SOLVES 65-YEAR-OLD CALIFORNIA COLD CASE!_** in bold lettering, led to an article that she didn’t read dated about ten years prior. Her eyes flicked back to the woman’s face. She was clearly the detective in question, a position not at all betrayed by the stern, unyielding expression on her face. Long, thick hair cascaded down onto her shoulders, accentuated by the grey suit she wore. She began scanning the article for her name— 

“—Julie?” It took her a second to remember her persona, but at Konstantin’s quietly insistent tone, she snapped back into reality. 

Russian shifted to nondescript Californian as she turned to look at him. “Oh, sorry, Fred. Coming!” Her voice was just loud enough not to be suspicious. She plastered a half-real smile onto her face before sliding into the chair opposite him. Flipping through the menu, she couldn’t stop her gaze from wandering back to the woman in the picture. 

* * *

Eve found that making lists helped her focus in times of stress. Back during her time on the force, she got into the habit of making them in her head (and usually on the fly). It was a surprisingly versatile skill. Of course, as a detective her lists often featured things like _file accident report_ and _clean gun during stakeout_, less so _talk to Jess about new fryer_ and _buy label maker_. 

Currently, the first thing on her list was _ban cross-country_. The entire varsity team (about thirty people, give or take) was currently squished around four tables that had been moved together. They were talking at full volume, spilling drinks constantly, and, to top it all off, hadn’t ordered any food beyond coffee and milkshakes. She had been solely focused on their table for the last few minutes, and, as such, didn’t even turn to look when the door swung open and murmured voices entered. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized she didn’t recognize them. _Must be tourists_, she thought. _Probably on their way to Oregon._

Eve focused on the register in front of her. She was in the middle of trying to total up the price of twenty-four cups of coffee, three triple espressos, and a handful of Oreo milkshakes when Hugo walked in the door, clad in sunglasses and slightly-wrinkled clothes that had clearly been worn the day prior. 

She felt more than saw him come in. He was a perfect representation of the American elite - a Harvard-educated Philosophy major from a high-net-worth Northeastern family currently on an gap year of indeterminate length before starting at Yale Law. He had never set foot on a public school campus in his life. Once, Eve made a silver spoon joke that he showed genuine confusion to. She assumed he had some academic talent, but most of his aptitude seemed to be in his so-called charm. He was a good waiter, though. Customers liked him.

Hugo strode in the door as if paparazzi were waiting behind every corner. His hair was effortlessly messy, as always. Mentally, Eve rolled her eyes. Without looking up, she greeted him. “You’re late.”

She didn’t have to look at his face to see his cheeky grin. “I’m never late, Eve. I always come exactly when you need me,” He looked over to the cross-country table. “Clearly, now is that moment.”

Somewhere in her mind, Eve conceded that, and finally looked at him. “You’re closing today,” She said flatly, handing him a pad and pen and ignoring the groan that came out of him. 

“Eve—”

“Not a word, Hugo.” She began walking back over to the table of kids, feeling dread sink lower and lower into the pit of her stomach with every step. 

If Eve had been looking up during her intent calculations, she might have seen the game the cross-country team had started playing. An onlooker could determine the rules and stakes easily enough - there was currently a stack of coffee mugs (with varying degrees of fullness) building in what was about to become Eve’s worst nightmare. The object appeared to be to find how many mugs could be stacked before the entire tower came crashing down with a flood of now-lukewarm coffee.

As fate would have it, that moment came at the worst possible time. The last thing Eve registered before seventeen mugs of coffee spilled on her was the look of pure, unbridled fear on one of the senior’s faces.

After the fact, she just stood there for a moment, regretting every decision that had been made in her life up to this second, until it clicked somewhere that she should be reacting. And react she did. In the sudden deathly calm of the diner (patrons turned to look even this early), her quiet, lethal voice felt impossibly loud. 

“Get. Out. Of. My. Diner.” Each word rang out like a gunshot, and, true to form, the table of cross-country runners sprinted away at the sound. Some were kind enough to leave a few twenties on the table, she realized dimly. For a split second, she considered placing a permanent ban on the team. 

Then, she felt someone gently touch her arm. Being already riled up, she was about to go on a second, probably longer rant to who she assumed was Hugo – and then she found herself staring into the face of a rather attractive blonde woman she didn’t recognize. 

For a moment, the woman just stared at her with a slightly open mouth. Then, she seemed to click back into place. A smooth, vaguely Californian accent flowed from her. Something about it wasn’t quite right to Eve’s ears. “Are you okay?” Her voice seemed to be tinged with genuine concern, but there was a caution to it that gave Eve pause. 

It took her a second to respond. “Er–yes, I-I’m fine. Sorry. Just a little shaken.” 

The woman nodded. “Do you want to go to the bathroom and clean up?”

Eve’s years of detective work screamed no at the prospect of going anywhere, even in her own diner, with a complete stranger. The coffee seeping through her corduroy pants begged yes. 

She made a split-second decision. “That would be great. Thank you,” Eve scanned the diner briefly before landing on her target. “Hugo, I’ll be back in a few. Don’t burn the place down.” She raised her voice enough to carry over the ambient noise of the diner. He looked over, slightly surprised, from taking a family’s order before smiling good-naturedly, giving her a thumbs-up, and remaining conversation. 

_Always a charmer._ Eve turned back to the blonde woman in front of her and began leading her to the bathroom. 

When they got to the door, something nagged at her. She turned to her companion. “You know, as much as I appreciate the moral support, it’s really not necessary. I mean, I don’t even know your name–”

“It’s Julie.” She smiled slowly.

“....Julie.” Eve nodded slowly. “Like Julie Andrews. Alright, Julie.” She turned towards the door, pausing for half a second before turning around again. “Thank you,” she said, and meant it with genuine earnest.

Julie grinned, showing white teeth and a small cut on her lip that Eve hadn’t previously noticed. “Anytime. I’ll wait out here for you…” She trailed off, searching for a name Eve realized she didn’t have.

“Oh, of course. Sorry. I’m Eve.” 

Julie nodded in satisfaction. “Eve.” The name sounded natural on her lips, which was another, equally interesting piece of information. 

Eve went in the thankfully-unlocked bathroom and began the grueling task of scrubbing the coffee out of her brand new pants. A voice, muted by the door, filtered through. “So, Eve, do you run this place?” 

Her voice came out a touch strained. Goddamn teenagers. “Uh, yes, I-I took it over about ten years ago. Before that, it was run by a friend of mine.” 

Curiosity touched Julie’s voice. Something about it seemed… off, as if it were rehearsed. “What did you do before that?”

“Oh, I was a detective.” Part of the stain had come out under her labor, but the rest looked like it would only budge under a Tide pen. 

“Really?” Again, almost rehearsed surprise.

She didn’t mean to, but her instincts reared their heads. Internally, she berated herself. This was a stranger. Eve had no right to judge her based on the first interaction they had. “Yep. I spent some time in San Francisco as a beat cop, but after I made detective they transferred me up here. Said there were…” She stopped for a moment, leaning forward against the sink to ponder her next words carefully. Some things weren’t other people’s business. “...some cases up North that needed solving.” She nodded to herself. “Anyway, after that, I realized how much I enjoyed living here. So after I had a break, I turned in my notice. That friend I mentioned, Bill, he ran this place before me. After he retired, he tapped me to fill in.” Her eyes fell on a piece of tile in the corner of the room that needed re-grouting. 

A beat. Then, Julie’s voice. “Do you like what you do?”

Eve made a more-or-less motion with her hands before realizing Julie couldn’t see her. She was still looking at the tile. “Yeah, but–” She interrupted herself, squatting down to touch it. “Seems like there’s always more work to be done.” 

Filing it away in her mental to-do list, Eve stood up and looked in the mirror. There were bags under her eyes that hadn’t been there before, but she assumed they were just part of the hangover package. Her hair hung loose in a bun on top of her head, and she debated what to do with it for a second. She wasn’t sure what, but something prompted her. “Julie?” She asked almost tentatively.

An answering “Yes?” came through the door. 

She hesitated. “How should I do my hair? Up or down?”

A moment of waiting felt twice as long, until–

“Wear it down.” 

She nodded, pulling it gently out of the elastic that had held it before. When Eve swung open the bathroom door, Julie was looking at her with an expression she couldn’t place. Her eyes seemed to rake over her hair slower than Eve was expecting. Julie dragged her gaze back to meet Eve’s with a smile that, if anything, seemed less real than the first. 

They stood like that for just a moment, until Eve broke the silence. “Thank you, Julie, really. It’s nice to have support in–” She cut herself off as she watched the rest of the mountain biking team walk in, then sighed deeply. “–Times like these.” 

Julie laughed, high and clear. “Hey, well, um,” She said, after a moment, “I’m going to be in town for a while. If you ever need any more, let me know. We’re at some motel downtown.” 

That was news to Eve. People usually didn’t stay long in Bloodstain. In fact, she realized distantly, she wasn’t aware of any newcomers (other than Hugo) in the last year or so. Her eyebrows raised of her own accord. “I may have to take you up on that.” 

Julie smiled, waved, and began walking back to her table. Eve wasn’t sure why, but she stopped her. “Hey,” She said, “If you ever want a decent cup of coffee, we’re about the only place in town that serves it. It’s on the house for you and–” –She looked over at where Julie’s companion, a grey-haired man with dark circles under his eyes– “–your... friend.” 

Julie blinked once. Then, a second time. Then, rapidly, three more. “I…. thank you, Eve.” It was the first thing she said that sounded genuine. 

Eve smiled and winked. “No problem. Anyway, I won’t keep you.” 

As they parted ways, Eve found her eyes lingering on Julie’s retreating form for a second too long. Jess shouted out another order, and it snapped her out of her reverie. 

Villanelle, on the other hand, was still in hers, and it was one of the rare times when it showed. As she sat down at the table with Konstantin, he frowned. “What happened to you?”

She looked up at him with a dawning smile. Her voice, not Julie’s, came out. “I think we can really make something out of Bloodstain.” She turned, watching as Eve dropped food off to grateful customers. “She was a detective,” she murmured absently.

Konstantin chuckled, opening up a newspaper. “You always did love a challenge.”


End file.
